


A Home at the End of the World

by Meduseld



Category: Common Law (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Bleak but not too bad, Extreme situations make feelings easier, M/M, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-16 04:03:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11245923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meduseld/pseuds/Meduseld
Summary: It's only the zombie apocalypse.





	A Home at the End of the World

It’s the little things, in the end, that get to you the most. Like the time Travis saw an ice cream wrapper tumbling with the wind and teared up, turning so no one could see. The two or three times he’s woken up panting and useless after a dream about a working _shower_. The way Wes’ hands twist up sometimes, like he’s rubbing hand sanitizer onto the skin, and he has to look away or he’s going to make it worse.

The bigger things, like the stump Money has instead of a hand, lost the ability to shock right around the time the earth burst open like a cracked wasp’s nest and poured out legions of undead.  After that, the nights where he shakes so bad he rattles and wakes Wes from his light sleep on the other cot or the nights where it’s the other way round don’t seem as bad as they would have a year ago. Apparently all they needed to admit that they were in it forever with each other was the end of the world.

It’s funny but when faced with an actual apocalypse Travis can’t actually bring himself to say the “z” word. Most of the others don’t either, a deep unspoken superstition, like it could somehow make it worse. And it could be worse. The thing is, even at the end of the world, Travis still has things to lose. There’s the small almost village they’ve built in the middle of Money’s yard, secured with fences of twisted metal and strategically placed hubcaps, populated by people that refuse to let it end. The old flea bitten guard dogs that are all named Spot, and even the cats that slink around half hidden and wary except around Wes, who they openly adore. There’s tiny garden Wes is growing inside old tires.

So far it’s only herbs and minuscule tomatoes, but every time they risk going out into the city, everyone goes with detailed instructions, given in his old cop voice, ringing in their ears about possible seeds and cuttings. When he can Travis sneaks down to watch him work, and the small green leaves between his fingers make Travis feel close to okay.

There’s not much room for anything else, not yet, but sometimes, when the sun’s going down and the enemy is easy to spot and he doesn’t have to take his turn at watch yet, they’ll sit shoulder to shoulder, and Wes’ hand will be warm in his own, knees almost touching and for moment Travis gets to be at peace.


End file.
